


Snow day

by highladyfxyre



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Brotp, Fluff, Platonic Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:21:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highladyfxyre/pseuds/highladyfxyre
Summary: Rhys has no idea what to get his girlfriend for her birthday. Thankfully, his cousin is always there to help.





	Snow day

Mor loved the snow.

She loved everything about it; the sound of it crunching beneath her boots, the feel of it falling down around her, the way that it felt like Christmas was coming. So, yes, Mor loved the snow. Her cousin, on the other hand, did not.

 “Stop complaining, Rhysand. It’s your fault we’re even out here.” She told her cousin, who was wrapped up in an abundance of warm clothes.

“Okay, one, I am not complaining. And two, you didn’t have to come.”

“What sort of person would I be if I didn’t help out my dear cousin in his time of need? Besides, you need me here.”

“I am perfectly capable of buying a present for my girlfriend on my own, thank you.”

Mor rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Her birthday is in three days. You haven’t even brought her a card yet.”

“I just haven’t found the perfect gift yet!”

“Which is why I am here. To find that gift.” She linked his arm, dragging him towards Macy’s, which was full of Christmas shoppers.

~

“Found anything yet?” Mor asked Rhys, who was looking bewildered.

“Nothing yet. Nothing screams Feyre.”

"Well, I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“It would be easier without the hoards of angry shoppers.”

“Ugh, I know. Why did she have to be born in December?”

“I’ll save that statement for her card.”

“Let’s go. We’re not going to find anything here.”

Rhys looked towards the glass doors, and the snow beyond them.

“Maybe we should keep looking.” He said, adjusting his black scarf.

“Oh don’t be such a baby. It’s just a little snow. You didn’t complain when we went skiing.”

“Yes, where there was a log cabin. And no risk of me getting hypothermia.”

“Yeah, right. Anyone ever said you’ve got a flair for dramatics?” She teased, tugging him towards the exit, narrowly dodging two women who were fighting over what looked like a candle. As if there wasn’t a whole candle section a few metres away.

That was one thing she didn’t like about the Christmas season.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m just saying. Hurry up. Time’s a wastin’, cousin dearest!”

“Dear god, never say that again.”

Mor stuck her tongue out at him, before dragging him out of the store and once again into the snow, the coldness cooling her down, a stark contrast to the heat of Macy’s.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Mor’s arms linked in Rhys’, until they reached a tiny vintage – looking store, tucked away at a street corner. “Let’s go in there!” Mor says, nodding her head towards the building.

“Is it even open?” Rhys asks, following her to the door. “I don’t know. I can’t really see inside. I think so.”

It was, and they both walked in, Rhys having to stoop a little as the ceiling was low.

The shop was beautiful yet cluttered with a little bit of everything dotted around the shop.

“Is this Feyre enough for you?” Mor asked, before going to look at the rack of vintage clothes in the corner of the room.

“I think so. She likes art so…” Rhys looked around the shop.

“So find something arty. What about this?” Mor held up an art print.

“Yes, I can imagine the conversation now. Here, darling, have a crappy art print. I love you.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

“Like you have a better idea. And I like that art print!”

“Well, you would. It looks like something you’d make.” His voice was teasing.

“I don’t see your paintings up in a gallery.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Mor stuck her tongue out at him, before walking over to a table with little trinkets and whatnot arranged on it. She dug through them, careful of the little china figures.

“I wasn’t aware I was dating a ninety year old.” Rhys had come to stand behind her, looking at the trinkets.

“You shouldn’t have invited me if you were just going to be snarky.”

“Again, didn’t invite you.”

Mor just ignored him, and continued to walk around the shop.

“Here!” She had found a paint palette, made out of dark wood, and a set of matching paintbrushes, which were held in a case.

“I think she’ll like that.” Rhys told her, looking at the palette.

“Think? Rhys, this is the perfect gift! She’s going to want to date me after knowing I found it. From now on, every present she will ever receive will be rated on a scale from 1 to this palette.”

“And you say I’m dramatic.” Rhys replied, his voice laced with annoyance, but he was smiling.

Mor nudged him with an elbow, before walking up to the counter and paying with the money Rhys lent her. After paying, they walked out of the shop, Mor swinging the paper bag the present was in.

“Careful! She won’t get a gift if you break it.” Rhys told her, though is voice had no real bite.

“Why don’t you carry it then?”

“My hands are occupied.” They were stuffed into the pocket of his coat. Baby.

After a few minutes of walking, Mor suddenly announced, “I’m starving. Let’s find somewhere to eat.”

They found a coffee shop, and sat by the windows, taking small sips of their hot chocolates.

Mor’s phone buzzed. A message. Mor’s heart sank when she saw it was her father. Asking where she was. Demanding, really.

“Who is it?” Rhys asked, though he could probably tell from the look on his face. His voice was soft.

“My father. He wants to know where I am.” Mor quickly typed her reply. “I should probably get going, anyway.”

“Mor, you know my offer still stands. You can come stay with whenever you want.” He sounded sincere, and Mor knew he was.

“And be around you and Feyre being disgustingly cute?” Mor teased, though she knew Rhys could see through it.

“Well, in case you change your mind, my door is always open. You can drop by whenever you like.”

Mor only smiled, though it was a sad smile, before draining her drink and standing up, buttoning up her coat.

“I know. Thank you. Now come on. The snow won’t kill you.”

Rhys smirked, though his eyes still held concern. “Hypothermia is a thing, cousin.”

“Whatever. Not afraid of the dark, but a little snow gets Rhys all upset.”

“Oh, shut up.”

They walked home together, Mor’s arm linked in Rhys’, and Mor watched the snow fall all around her.

She really did love it.


End file.
